


City of the Lost

by Sparklespirit



Series: The Fandom Revival Tour [2]
Category: Casablanca (1942)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M, Gen, My First AO3 Post, hopefully this works, kind of, so technically they died in the past but it doesn't actually happen in the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 04:25:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20540069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparklespirit/pseuds/Sparklespirit
Summary: Sometimes, there are second chances.





	City of the Lost

Casablanca, the city of lost souls and wanderers. Seems fitting that I’d end up here again.

I stand on the balcony of low sandstone hotel, the smoke from my dwindling cigarette curling up and over my head, blurring my view of the slow sunrise tinging the sand gold. The outlines of the city, still hugging the desert but so much taller than the last time around, rise up around my little piece of it. The sounds of glasses clinking and warbling singing along to the piano in the lobby travel up through the thin floorboards. Sam’s still up, serenading the wanderers who stay awake through the night. I can’t really blame them. I see shadows in the alleyways too, after dark.

I shouldn’t be up here. It’s my building, but it’s my business too. Sam shouldn’t be left to run the floor alone, capable as she might be. When I first met her, she just laughed about it and said she didn’t mind doing it all again, and that being a girl this time was just fine with her, as long as she was a half-owner of Rick’s. She is, now, and as good at piano as ever. But she took the whole night before, and I promised to take this one.

I’ve never been very good at promises.

I shouldn’t be smoking, either. Apparently these things will kill me. They didn’t last time, though. Nazis beat lung cancer for speed, any day.

I exhale slowly, creating a sweet-smelling golden halo around me. I must make a pretty picture, a blurred, glowing silhouette against the softly shifting sand. I wouldn’t know. Can’t watch your own back.

Good thing I have someone for that, this time around.

She steps out of the shadows by the French doors, thrown open to allow the cool desert air into our rooms. I turn, unable to stifle my smile as her cigarette flames up. The flames play across her face, lighting up the eyes I remember from so long ago before burning down to a soft glow.

“What are you doing?”

I love her voice, lilting and accented, just as it has always been. I reply with a shrug, gripping the balcony as she wraps around me, bring her floral perfume and the smell of smoke with her. This is the same, too.

The whole city, so new and different, but at the same time the same as before in the bones of it. No wonder I jump at shadows and look for the ghosts of those that once were. These corners once were watched over by Nazis, those bars and gambling palaces filled with desperate refugees and smugglers. The whole city is still full of the lost, those caught in an eddy in the stream of life. But never so many as before.

I remember last time. I did what was right, I think. Not like I know, though. I didn’t make it to the end of the war. She may have? I’ve never asked. I don’t think I ever will.

It’s enough that I got to try again. The world is still dangerous, and Casablanca still has its scoundrels. After all, I’m here, and the world wouldn’t be the world if it didn’t have its seedy underbelly.

There are still differences, though. This time, we don’t have Paris.

I don’t know why, out of all the people in the world, all the people who passed through Casablanca, we were given a chance to try again. I don’t need to know.

This time, we didn’t meet in Paris, didn’t get separated by the war. This time, I left home, drawn to this place in a way I’ve never been able to explain. Found Sam, and between my head for business and her flair for entertainment, we made our little bar the best in Casablanca. In fairness, that wasn’t a high bar. Pun intended.

And one day, out of all the gin joints in all the towns in the world, she walked into mine. And this time, she was free.

Play it again, Sam. This time, play it for us.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting to AO3! Hope you like it! Please tell me if anything looks off, I don't know HTML well :)
> 
> I will love you forever if you send me comments!


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